


where the lines overlap

by novaimperator



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: Happy Sex, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sappy, Trans Male Character, um, yeah. yeaaahhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 12:32:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15096803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novaimperator/pseuds/novaimperator
Summary: The angel, looking indeed ethereal with the effects of arousal, whines with want. He shudders when Ciel reaches down; he tries, clumsily, to return the motion.This was requiring a lot more courage than he had worked up in advance.





	where the lines overlap

**Author's Note:**

> take from me these crimes and speak not a word about them

    “Mmph--”

    Ciel presses Ain harder against the door, digits tangled in grey locks. Ain grasps the other’s tailcoat, tugging uselessly at it, then instead wreathes his fingers into the loops of his belt. As he pulls him closer, he feels the fleece surrounding his shoulders vanish. He jerks up on Ciel’s dress shirt, struggling to untuck it. Ciel pulls away and he whines in protest, but after a split second his top is on the floor alongside Ain’s own and their mouths connect again. Ain blindly kicks his shoes off and to the side.

    When he attempts to start shuffling toward the general direction of the bed, his wrists are seized and pinned above his head. He decides not to struggle. Ciel drags his tongue across his lip, then down his neck, and he feels like he’s melting. His head knocks the door forcefully when he tilts it back, trying to expose more of himself to his lover. Said lover obliges, kissing and biting every new area. He can feel Ain’s hums of happiness against his lips, and he smiles. He places a chaste kiss upon his Adam’s apple.

    “Bed?” Ain asks, and Ciel takes a moment to study him. Fists cooperatively clenched underneath his hand, green eyes alight and amber skin glistening with sweat, peppered with gentle pink marks. He looks amazing, and he tells him so. Ain giggles, “But would I not look better without the rest of my clothes?”

     It’s impossible to argue with that logic.

     So together they stumble to the mattress, and now Ciel lays under the other man. Ain is flushed, undoubtedly unused to being on top (or perhaps unused to being in such intimate proximity to begin with), and he appears uncertain as to how to proceed. It’s wholly logical Ain has never done anything like this, despite how he seems to have plenty of knowledge regarding it, Ciel realizes. Ain is still staring dumbly at him. It’s kind of funny, and Ciel has to bite his lip to stop from laughing. Unfortunately, this fact is almost immediately perceived by the angel, and he sits up, buries his face in his hands. “Demon! Ah! Truly, truly… to laugh in such a situation! So heartless,” he laments, and Ciel does chuckle this time.

    “Ainchase,” he says, “come here.” And he does, so Ciel flips them and once more, he looms over the grey-haired man. However, he still looks troubled. Ciel clears his throat and puts on his most ostentatious noble voice. “Ainchase, my dearest,” he begins, “if you are at all able to find it within the depths of your soul and heart to forgive me my trespasses and extend mercy, I would be unfathomably honored,” he takes a deep, dramatic breath, “and I would be pleasured to an immeasurable degree if I may kiss you.”

    Now Ain laughs, beaming, and cups Ciel’s cheeks, pulling him down to him. Business is to continue as usual. Ain wriggles out of his pants as Ciel gives his attention back to his neck. Ain’s hands, cold as always, make their way to the hem of Ciel’s white undershirt and slide it off of him. When he sees the dual scars on his chest, he frowns. “What happened?”

    Ciel blinks, confused, then looks down to find what he’s referring to. _Oh. Ah._

    “They’re… um, they’re from a, shall we say, bodily modification. They aren’t due to injury. If that worried you.” It had not, in fact, occurred to Ciel at all that his boyfriend didn’t exactly know he was trans. He supposed there wasn’t anything to do about that now. He’d certainly be aware by the end of the night, for better or for worse. Guilt stings him for a fleeting moment, but-- he owes nobody that information, he reminds himself, because it is not what makes him as a person or decides whether he is deserving of people's time.

    “Do they hurt?” Ain queries.

    He shakes his head. “No. They don’t feel like much at all, actually. Don’t worry, angel.”

    Ain nods. He sets his hands on Ciel’s hips and rubs his thumb along the adjacent muscle. “You’re very handsome.”

    Ciel smiles fondly. “Yes, I’m quite aware. But you’re not so bad yourself.” He hums, “As a matter of fact, you,” he says, leaning down, “are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

    Ain returns his grin. Ciel slots their lips together once, quickly, and begins his voyage downward. He slowly moves across his shoulders, sucking at the skin, then continues. Ain undoes his ponytail and tucks the hair behind his ear while Ciel is kissing his soft stomach. Ain pulls his hair experimentally; in response, he nips the inside of his thigh. And Ain _moans,_  drawling and crystalline.

Both of them are still for a minute. Then Ain’s hand flies to his mouth and Ciel’s own darts up to remove it. He laces his fingers in between Ain’s. “So… like that, do we? I liked that sound...”

    He sets their interlocked hands down on Ain’s abdomen, which then jerks up toward him. He feels the smirk on his face. He releases his hand and strokes Ain’s thigh, whisper-soft. He practically whimpers.

    “Tell me what you want.”

    The angel, looking indeed ethereal with the effects of arousal, keens and grasps achingly at his own thighs. “I don’t know,” he breathes. Arches up. “I don’t know. I want--I would like you, in some way, I think.” His words are edged with desire, making them high and sharp. He shudders when Ciel reaches down. “That, yes, that is good.” He tries, clumsily, to do the same for Ciel.

    This was requiring far more courage than he had built up in advance.

    But nonetheless, he allows Ain’s hands to explore, and he stays still when they retract, perplexed and concerned. “Is this not... enjoyable for you?” Ain asks.

    Ciel rubs his forefinger with his thumb and sighs. “No, that isn’t the case at all. Quite the opposite!” He chuckles nervously. “We just happen to have.. different anatomy.”

    This did not appear to imply hardly anything to Ain. “But you are a man, like me.”

    “Yes,” he answers harshly without hesitation, uninvited fear shooting briefly through him. He forces it down and mellows his voice. “My body just happens to be different from some other men’s bodies. Sometimes that creates difficulties, such as this.”

    “I see.”

    They hold one another’s gaze for far too long. Ciel didn’t think he would care, but this intermission was getting the best of his nerves: he was still a pessimist at heart. “Should I tell you it is not a problem? It does not matter to me,” Ain says softly, and Ciel lets out a sigh of relief he didn’t realize he was holding. Ain’s hands are settled on his waist once more. “You’re still a man, aren’t you? So you are still attractive to me. The rest means nothing.”

    “I’m--I’m very glad to hear that,” he murmurs. He grabs one of Ain’s hands and brings it to his face. Ain prods his lips with his thumb and Ciel licks it without thought. He stops suddenly, reminding himself of his manners. “Wait, are you still alright--”

    “Yes,” Ain cuts him off, breathless. “Yes, very much. Pretty please.” He shifts Ciel closer, hands back to his hips. “I love you,” Ain tells him, and slides the top of Ciel's boxers down.

 

    Ciel situates himself on top of Ain and for a few minutes, they simply grind on each other. Ain enjoys this, of course, but Ciel has needs too, and necessary arrangements are made for them to be met. Ain, ever the quick learner, manages to take a tiny bit of initiative so things felt just as good on Ciel’s end (but never let it be said that Ciel was not in control. He most certainly was, and it _did_ things to Ain. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He wasn’t sure, honestly, that he’d be able to even if he did want otherwise).

    But back to the situation at hand--rather, at hip.

    Ciel was absolutely mesmerizing. Always in motion, and so graceful-- Ain thinks _he’s_ the angelic one, ironically. He adores the way he looks upright on him, commanding and confident, but it’s difficult to kiss him like that. Thus he sits up and Ciel is still taller, as he always is, so he busies himself with lavishing love upon his chest and shoulders and jawline, and Ciel wreathes his arms around his neck, leaning in so Ain can hear every breath he takes. Ciel lays his palm on Ain's chest at one point just to feel his racing heartbeat. He likes knowing that he can satisfy Ain, dominate him and his senses in spite of everything. He’s glad he is a demon, because Ainchase no longer fears them.

    Ciel isn’t very noisy, but he is very touchy, and Ain is _weak_ for his nails raking his back and the fingers pulling his hair and the teeth grazing the shell of his ear. Physical sensation, that’s what Ain needs, those tangible reminders he is, in fact, as humanly as he can be, that he belongs here with everyone on Elrios. He needs a way to understand that he does not have to be holy nor unholy, that _himself_ is plenty, and this is how. Through the touch of those he loves, true and thorough.

    And Ciel can’t get enough of Ain’s voice, its soft accent and the babbling-brook flow, so sweet and strong like honey and mint. Such uncertain touches, fumbling like bumblebees, but noises that made flowers blossom in Ciel’s chest. A message that not all things are sentient, that physical being has no bearing on worth and that there is more to life and living than the violence of a palpable world. _Ainchase,_ he wants to cry, _Ainchase, never stop talking, I want to hear your voice in all the world’s sounds._

    “I love you,” Ain mumbles, “I love you, _o-ooh-mmm_ you’re so handsome,” and Ciel presses his tongue to Ain’s jaw, “you’re incredible,” and Ciel steers Ain’s hand to his own heartbeat, “oh _Goddess_ I am so lucky to have you,” and Ciel squeezes Ain’s wrist like a vice, “I’m happy with you _a-aaahh--”_ and when he peaks he sings Ciel’s name like a hymn; Ciel breathes hard into his ear and holds him tight as they sway in tandem. They float down from their highs hand-in-hand.

    Ciel is a human who became a demon.

    Ainchase is an angel who became human.

    They are imperfect, perhaps, but perfect in their fit for one another; two seperate sides of the same universe, the balances of each other’s realms. They are where the lines of the world overlap, they are an eclipse. And they _work_ as sun and moon, too. The unfailing give and take, the way in which they compliment each other's strengths and weaknesses and wants and needs...

    Ain falls onto the blanket, utterly exhausted, and Ciel slips off of him with a contented sigh. “I’m going to wash up,” he says, hovering on the edge of the bed, but Ain grabs his wrist.

    “Stay with me.” His voice is hoarse. His eyes are shut, hair tousled, and his hand rests lazily on his tummy. Some hickeys have finally faded in on his neck and shoulders, like a map of the night sky. He is absolutely wrecked, and it's a sight of such blissful intimacy it requires a moment of pure appreciation. Ciel would quite like to simply get cozy and sleep, but he would probably feel grimy when he woke. Carefully, Ciel extracts himself from his grip.

    “You come freshen up with me. We’ll make it quick,” he proposes instead. Ain groans.

    “ _Nooooo._ I am sleepy,” he states. “I feel like I can’t move. I will fall if I get up and hit my head in a horrible accident and then there will be no more Ainchase Ishmael! Just stay,” he implores. His accent is thicker when he’s drowsy, Ciel notes.

    Ciel rolls his eyes. “Come on, no need to be dramatic. Let’s go,” he says, tugging him up by his arm. Ain grumbles but obediently shambles into the shower alongside him. The entire time, he leans on Ciel’s back, arms wrapped around his waist. He opts against asking him to move, firstly since he suspects his body is the sole reason he is still standing upright, and secondly because it’s rather comfortable and he can hear Ain’s hushed complaints with his chin resting on his shoulder. His hair, though wet, still retains an amusing curly-cue, which Ciel cannot control his compulsion to pull. Ain pouts, mumbling some nonsense throughout which Ciel catches his name and the word “bastard.” He chuckles and kisses the mess of grey hair resting tucked into the crook of his neck.

    When Ciel feels adequately hygienic, he steps out of the shower, Ain still attached, and ties his hair back up. Ain breaks away to climb up into bed, and Ciel chastises him for not redressing himself-- this is quickly rectified. He’s wearing one of Ciel’s shirts.

    “Ciel,” he whines. “Hurry up.”

    He replies with a vague hand motion, then realizes he isn’t looking. “Patience is a virtue, angel.” But he does make haste and soon slides under the covers next to him. As soon as Ain hears the springs creak, he starts groping around mindlessly in search of him. Ciel guides his arms to encircle his waist and Ain drags his body toward him. For what Ciel believes is the first time in half an hour, Ain opens his eyes. He moves an arm so that it rests between their chests and gingerly swipes a thumb over one of Ciel’s scars once his vision adjusts. Ciel makes an inquisitive noise, blue eyes bright.

    “You are very fascinating,” Ain tells him.

    “Oh?”

    “I have never met someone so unafraid of things,” he continues. “You are not shy. Or-- finicky. Honest and kind, even though demons should not be. Your life has been interesting, to say the least, and certainly there must be hurt somewhere, but it seems as if nothing at all gets the better of you. You are also very smart and good at cooking. I think you are one of the most important things in the world and I want to be with you wherever you are. Mm..” Ain trails off, eyelids fluttering shut once more. Ciel is silent. “I am happy I know you.”

    Truth be told, Ciel has no idea how he’s supposed to react. He’s the one embarrassed, for a change. He watches Ain’s outline rise and fall rhythmically in the dark. His nose whistles a bit when he breathes out. Ainchase is always making noise. He loves to speak, loves to make his presence known and revels in receiving attention. He is flashy yet complex, an enigma composed of emotion and dramatic effect.

    Ciel is a simple man, more action than word. It is easier to merely do than to talk about it.

    He brings Ainchase closer, winds his arms around him. “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> do i know how to write these characters? no. do i know how to write at all? no. will that stop me from writing 2.5k words about them? obviously not.
> 
> thx for reading i hope it wasn't unbearable fjdnfjfnfnk; it took me so long to just fucking press "post"


End file.
